A Question of Honor
by Paul P.S. Sullivan
Summary: One Shot. Iroh and Zuko are invited to tea by a retired general who had a hand in the genocide of the Airbenders almost a century before. Read and Review please.


A Question of Honor

_Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss0ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssS_

Prince Zuko impatiently paced beside his uncle Iroh along a path of wide dark stones. The trees lining the path were bare of leaves, reminding the young prince of dark brown skeletons against the gray winter sky.

"Uncle," Zuko turned to complain to Iroh, "We're wasting time. The Avatar could have gone into hiding by now and Commander Zhao is hounding me-"

"All good reasons," Iroh replied, with his usual calmness, "but also General Xiao invited us for a visit and you need some relaxation."

"I'll only relax when I've captured the Avatar!" Zuko yelled.

"I suggest not raising your voice when you're around Xiao," Iroh advised in his same tone. "Trust me on this one." The elder man gingerly rubbed his backside.

Zuko tugged at his gray robes, feeling naked without his armor. He remembered past outings with his uncle, including his previous visit with the retired General Xiao, as they passed the gateway to the mansion. He shuddered slightly at the memory of a ten-year old boy dressing in a woman's robe and dancing around the room with a fan, the two seniors laughing with amusement. He looked up as a woman, abundant in wrinkles and snow white hair, peered out the door, hobbled down the steps and bowed creakily in front of the teenager and his uncle.

"Prince Zuko," she rasped, dull brown eyes glistening, "it is good to see the nephew of General Iroh."

"As is to see you, General," Iroh replied. Xiao smiled slightly as she stood upright.

"Would you like to come in for tea?" she asked.

"Tea would be refreshing after our journey here," Iroh smiled. Zuko nodded.

_Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss0ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssS_

The living room was made up simply of the bare wooden floor, with the exception of a rug beneath the table towards the sliding door and few strategically placed vases. Upon the walls, there hung various swords, all have longed for better days, and scrolls of washed out ink script and delicate strokes. The floors made a creaking sound as Xiao carried a bamboo tray of a jade-green teapot, a trio of cups, and a plate of white doughy rice cakes. She creakily set the tray upon the table, placed the teapot, cups and rice cakes in front of Iroh and Zuko, and, finally sat down herself to one side of the table.

"I have heard of your search for the Avatar," Xiao said, pouring the tea into Iroh's cup.

"You have heard correctly," Iroh replied, blowing the steam away and sipping his tea. "Hmm, jasmine."

"I've also heard of your letting him escape," the ancient woman added, a hint of suspicion in her tone, "and of your recent victory over Commander Zhao in a duel."

"Prince Zuko won with his honor intact," Iroh stated. "I am proud of him."

Xiao turned towards Zuko. "Is honor important to you, my Prince?"

Zuko glared at her, cocking an eyebrow incredulously. "Why do you ask that?"

"Answer it," Xiao said, firmly. Zuko frowned as he made a reply.

"Yes."

"Would you kill for it?"

"Yes."

"Would you kill your uncle for it?"

Zuko glared at the woman, growing aggravated. "You don't think I have any integrity."

"It's not that," Xiao replied, calmly sipping her tea. "I just feel that you don't want it enough."

Zuko slammed his fist down, angrily. The tea splashed from their cups and unto the table. "Of course, I want it, you impetuous wench! You could never understand wanting what you deserve!"

Suddenly, Xiao reached up and firmly slapped Zuko upside his right cheek. The prince seethed as he raised his hand to retaliate. Suddenly, he could feel his wrist being grabbed by Iroh. He turned to him, glaring.

"She knows it better than you think, Prince Zuko," Iroh said, "being the only General to lack firebending abilities in over a century."

Zuko torn his wrist from his uncle's grip. He shook it gingerly. Despite his age, the man had a grip like a vise. He turned his focus back on Xiao, still glowering.

"You are legend throughout the Fire Nation," he said, skeptically. "Soldiers speak of your name as if you were a freaking god. Then again, it was you who eradicated the Airbenders a hundred years ago."

Xiao sipped her tea, shivering slightly. "Yes, but it's more like ninety-seven."

"Then tell me," Zuko glared, "if you are so knowing."

Xiao set her tea down and sighed. "I was young, no older than you are now. I was not a Firebender when I entered their service and I left, never becoming one. I lacked the gift that everyone else was blessed with."

Zuko pursed his lips, annoyed. No doubt this was one of those stupid stories that elders tell the younger generation to make them feel grateful for their lives.

"They had little use for me as a fighter," Xiao continued, "so they trained me for spy missions."

"And your first assignment was the Southern Air Temple," Zuko said, stating a fact, rather than guessing. The ancient woman nodded.

"I dressed in Air Nomad's garb and shaved my head. I passed as a boy even in front of my superiors, no breasts at that time, so it wasn't any different than what I had done before."

"I mistook her as a man, my first year as a soldier," Iroh said, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Even she was wearing her dress robes. I thought that the General was the prettiest man that night." Xiao shook her head, her pale and wrinkled cheeks glowing peach.

"So, you passed as a boy," Zuko said impatiently, "and the monks took you in. Get on with it."

"In good time, my Prince," the elderly lady replied, if a bit condescendingly. "You haven't touched your tea."

Automatically, Zuko grabbed his cup and took a large gulp of steaming tea. Swallowing, he looked at her with a thinly disguised façade of spite.

"Please continue," Iroh said, calmly. Turning her focus towards Iroh, Xiao nodded.

"They took me in, made a groundskeeper," Xiao explained further. "In exchange, I was free to roam their temple, save for their sacred rooms that they even kept from their students. They trusted me with their secrets, their home, their Avatar."

"And then you killed them," Zuko said, looking fiercely at her, "all except for one."

The aged woman glared at Zuko. "Had he died, you wouldn't have the means to return home and to your throne."

Zuko sneered at her as he rose from his seat and marched towards the sliding doors. Hearing the door slam, Iroh turned to Xiao.

"I understand you being harsh with him," Iroh said, sipping his tea. "He is still young, but also having the weight of his father's failures as well as his own."

"An exiled prince is still a prince," Xiao replied, "as opposed to a bastard girl who had to lie her way up to that same honor that few are entitled to."

"Do you regret it?" Xiao looked at Iroh. The weariness in her eyes managed a harsh glare.

"No," her anxious voice is betrayed by its quivering. "I don't."

"Thank you for the tea, General Xiao," Iroh stood up and bowed, respectfully. "It was delicious."

"I trust you and Prince Zuko will find a safe journey from here," the woman stood and bowed unsteadily. Iroh turned to leave.

"If the boy Aang is the last of his nation," Xiao added, sitting down, "the Avatar cycle is still doomed when he dies."

Iroh nodded as he slid the door open. Zuko stood across from the rock and sand garden, drawing strange curvy patterns in the gray sand. As his uncle shut the door behind him, the sounds of gentle sobbing could be heard from inside.

_Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss0ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssS_

Disclaimer: I don't own Zuko or Iroh. However, General Xiao is my own creation. The episode referenced is "The Southern Air Temple". I was tinkering with the idea of the Monks being betrayed from the inside, when I watched the episode a couple of times. Now, I'm tinkering with the idea of expanding on Xiao's story as a prequel. Not sure if I'll ever get to it. Review and tell me what you think.


End file.
